


Steal Your Dying Breath

by 13thDoctor



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannibalism, Character Death, Hospitals, M/M, Post-Finale, Violence, spoilers for Savoureux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal ties up his loose ends, both ending and beginning his relationship with Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Your Dying Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JHarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHarkness/gifts).



> This mostly stays with the plot of the finale, but Will never leaves his hospital to go to the prison. It's basically the end of the relationship , but also the beginning, in a way. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Props to anyone who gets the reference at the end

It was an ocean of nothingness; of blank sound and void space and tired waves of lashes crashing upon dry, grainy cheeks. It was an echo of time- Will's memories were all shades of black, white, and grey with no distinguishing features. They blended with contorted edges and blurry lines. The clarity was lost for faces and details as if they had been oil paint on a canvas, smeared by a dirty palm under dying light.

Then, with a gentle beep and a mechanical whirr, the fog vanished.

His mind was hazy at first, clouded with drugs, bullets, and Garrett Jacob-Hobbs. His brain felt rearranged, the pieces scrambled together in a futile attempt to reorganize what was already lost. Gone was the certainty, the satisfaction of solving a crime. It was only guilt and pain and suffering and pure, unrelinquishable terror.

"Will."

The empath's heart sped to a stacatto rythm, the machines he was connected to shrieking warnings to his doctors. With a delicate finger they were silenced, the screens blinking into blackness. Will Graham's lungs filled with oxygen he did not need, and he expelled it in short, cutting breaths accompanied by small winces. As smooth and polished as ever, Doctor Lecter appeared, his signature designeer suits replaced with a simpler sweater ensemble.

Will struggled to talk, his lips tightening over words to spit and accusations to scorn his psychiatrist with. He wanted it to burn; to flare like Georgia, her skin charred beyond recognition.

His vocal chords failed him, and he was left to stare helplessly at Hannibal's calculated smile. The older man was so easy to read sometimes, and yet, his mask was always unbreakable. Will had the uneasy feeling that he was only permitted to see what Hannibal wanted him to see.

"You used me," the patient croaked. Tears stung the corners of his glassy eyes.

Hannibal did not speak, but he maneuvered closer to his fascinating subject. Wll's body reacted like a magnet, pulled by the force of the doctor and their unspeakable attraction.

"You killed them." He swallowed his fear, fed it to the wolves, the taste of salt and metal in his mouth. "And now you've come to kill me."

Hannibal ran his hand along Will's bare arm, leaving ice on his ashen skin. He was controlling their conversation, manipulating Will's heart and mind just to play his game. "Yes," he answered, his voice as rich and soothing as ever, "I have."

Will attempted to recoil, his fingers clawing at the crisp sheets in a way that would have drawn blood on a human. Hannibal closed his hand around Will's wrist in a vice grip, halting the escape. The agent's breaths were slowing down, and the hum of the machines was a dull reminder of his listless state.

"Why?" Will hissed, so lost in his world where everything could have been right, when his brain wasn't on fire and Hannibal was his anchor, his chain, the one connection that he would have given everything to keep.

And now he had.

Hannibal smiled again, and Will was stunned by the haunting, monstrous beauty of the act. The hand on Will's wrist glided carefully across the younger man's chest, coming to rest in the curve of his shoulder. The thumb and forefinger tugged at a loose curl, and Will's eyes followed the movement carefully. It was almost relaxing; the gesture could have been kind if the agent hadn't known better.

There were so many endings he could see- a gold bar whipped across his vision and he was lying in a bloody mess, his organs torn out and served to unsuspecting guests, or his eyes were stabbed through with black antlers, his skin carved in patterns and intricacies only Hannibal could imagine. His neck was snapped and he was impaled on the hospital bed frame, cold and still in his eternal rest.

But death had always seemed so much easier than sleeping.

"What are you going to do to me?" Will asked, ashamed by how quiet and beaten his voice sounded.

Hannibal's did not answer. His hand tightened in Will's hair and the other drifted to his jaw, rubbing a soft circle on the pale flesh. Will's eyes went wide; he wondered how fast his death would be, or if it would be drawn out, stretched as long as Hannibal's lies.

Hannibal delicately pulled at Will's oxygen mask, spiking his heart rate again. He was acutely aware of the necessity of the air feed; the bullet had weakened his lungs to the point where he was dependent on the machine until complete recovery.

It was gone so fast that time slowed down. His heart thudded in his ears and jumped to his throat as he gasped for breath; he could see the computer screen screaming for his nurse but it made no sound. The doctor leaned over him, casting a shadow over his writhing body. His breath ghosted over Will's face, mocking his need and teasing aid.

"I want your last breath, Will Graham. I want it to be _mine._ "

The cannibal caught Will's lips in his own, pulling at them with his teeth and sucking the breath from his body. Will could only breathe harder, panic and awe and an erratic, delerious, taboo love unmistakably pumping through his veins. It was remarkable how poetic it was, but not at all surprising.

Forbidden romance. Artistry. It was the Chesapeake Ripper at his finest. He closed his eyes in his last moments, Hannibal's mouth still on his.

_Thus with a kiss, I die._


End file.
